The Mysterious Whirring Noise
by swordsandstories
Summary: What happens when the Doctor meets a Whovian, when he doesn't even know about the TV series? A Doctor Who oneshot!


**This is the first fanfiction I've ever posted. :) So if you've even read this far, I thank you! I'm not really quite sure how to write oneshots... I don't have time to grow attached to the characters so it's hard to write about them. Hopefully, you guys all love the Doctor enough that you're already attached to him and there is nothing I really have to do besides make him say a few Doctor-ly words. Sorry for any typos and grammar problems. Hope you like my story. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, the Doctor, the Tardis, or any of the wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff in this story. I'm just a lowly fangirl who has no life and no Doctor Who episodes recorded on her television. Please don't send the Daleks after me.**

* * *

Whirring. That's the only sound my mind can register. It's strange, alien. But it's also familiar, a kind of siren like noise. It doesn't take me long to identify the sound; millions of people all across the world would recognize it in a heartbeat – a high pitched screeching often associated with one thing and one thing only.

The Tardis.

I glance at the television, but I know it is turned off. The house is silent except for the slow hum of the microwave, turning in endless circles to heat my dinner. My cat is lying on the counter, purring softly. My parent's are gone for their honeymoon and I just got back from work a few moments ago. The house should be quiet. So why was there a Tardis noise coming from my front yard?

It could be my friend, coming over to tease me about something we both love – the British television series called "Doctor Who." We have seen every single episode ever aired of the Doctor. Fangirling takes on a whole new meaning when he's mentioned around us. I'm serious. My favorite word is "Geronimo." I have tried and love Fishsticks and Custard, which isn't all that bad really. I was the Doctor last Halloween, even though I'm a girl. I cut my hair like the eleventh Doctor's (long and floppy over my right eye) and everything! I have my own sonic screwdriver, which I carry around with me at all times. It's actually in my back pocket right now. I'm pretty sure it's safe to say I'm obsessed.

The Tardis noise stops, which throws me off my train of thought. I glance around the house, looking for my cell phone. It can be my ring tone going off, but somehow the noises don't match. The noise I heard was purer, something that sounds more original, something that electronics these days just can't capture. It's like hearing a car go by on a movie and hearing a car go by in real life – it just doesn't match. When I finally find my phone, resting by the television, I check for messages. Nothing. It hadn't been my phone ringing, which meant I was right about the sound – it wasn't coming from anything inside the house. The black screen of the television stares at me blankly, forcing me to realize something.

Whatever I heard, I didn't imagine it. The noise is coming from somewhere. Grabbing my tan jacket off the back of the chair, I head for the door. I have just pulled it on over my bright yellow shirt and blue jeans and looked outside when I nearly have a heart attack.

A giant blue box is sitting on my front porch.

A giant blue box that wasn't there five minutes ago.

A giant blue box that showed up with a whirring noise.

A giant blue box that looked _exactly_ like the Tardis. The sign reading "Police Public Call Box" was on it – the whole thing was exact down to the last little detail.

I approach it slowly, dozens of things running through my mind. I am a bit amazed, shocked by the possibility that_ the _Tardis, the one that I've seen on television thousands of times, could be on my front porch. I am also slightly cautious, waiting for my friend to jump out dressed like a Dalek, screaming, "We have destroyed the Doctor! We have taken his ship," just like I know she would if she had the chance and the determination to build a life size Tardis. I am also wondering how the hell someone got that freaking thing onto my front porch without making any noise – except for the Tardis one!

The first thing I do is knock on the box. It sounds solid, just like real wood. I kick it, waiting for the entire thing to fall apart because it hadn't been made properly. Then I try opening the door. Locked. Well, fudge. That just about ruins my mood.

I am about to head inside the house when I hear the door swinging open.

"Did you just kick my box?" the voice sounds shocked, slightly amused, and definitely British. I spin around on my heel, excitement already coursing through me. I've heard that voice before, just not in person. My excitement ratchets up ten percent when I see him, _him_, leaning against the blue police box.

He's dressed identical to the Doctor on television: suspenders, a light colored striped shirt, brown jacket, and the insanely awesome bowtie. His facial features are relatively close to Matt Smith's (he's the actor who plays the eleventh Doctor) but they aren't the same. His eyes are a light brown, his nose is a bit offset, and he has more laugh lines around his eyes. His hair, however, is also identical. The dramatic cut of his hair barely hangs over his right eye, giving him a brooding look.

"Yes, I did happen to kick your box." I reply with a grin. This is unreal. A look alike to the Doctor has magically appeared in what might be the Tardis, and I am talking to him. The Doctor. It's amazing.

"So you just go around kicking boxes whenever you feel like? Is that how they do things in America?" He's giving me a small smile, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and his eyes glinting mischievously. This guy's voice is distinctly different than Matt Smith's, but I think it's for the better. His voice is deeper – more like I think the Doctor's should be like.

I shrug, "Yeah, when you land on people's front yards." He smiles just a bit wider. Before I can think about what I'm saying, I blurt out, "Do you happen to know Matt Smith?" I blush slightly. Here I am asking a strange man who might possibly be the Doctor - which I have been convinced is real for quite some time now - if he knows Matt Smith, the man who plays the Doctor. It's a bit confusing, really, but for all I know Matt has a twin who just showed up on my doorstep.

The man doesn't even wonder at my question – well, he's probably been asked much worse if he _is_ the Doctor – he just seems to think about it for a bit. "I've met a lot of Matt Smiths. It's a very common name." He falls quiet for a bit more. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

"Friday, Friday, of course it's _Friday_!" With his accent, 'Friday' is far more entertaining to hear. "Can't give anyone a straight answer here in America, now, can we…" He starts to glare at me but then straightens up, taking his hands out of his pockets. I notice he is much taller than me, a full four or five inches, and I'm about 5 foot 8 inches tall. "Can't say I have met a Max Schmidt or whoever. I'm the Doctor by the way."

"The Doctor. _You're_ the Doctor?" I reach out to take his hand, my mind reeling. How does someone even begin to compute that one sentence? It seems highly improbable that any Doctor Who fan can get that sentence answered in under a minute.

"Yes, yes, try to keep up." The Doctor stares at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. I know he is trying not to laugh at me, but I can't help but be amazed. Could this guy be a fake? Then, in the spur of the moment, I decide to have my own bit of fun.

"Rose Tyler." The man's face goes white, his smile dropping and his eyes narrowing in thought. He starts muttering under his breath so fast I can't hear him. In that moment, I have no doubts. This guy is the Doctor, and he just flew his Tardis onto my front porch.

"Gosh, Doctor, I'm just kidding. My name's April." The Doctor frowns at me, but he doesn't look angry. He just looks a bit… curious. Like he knows I brought up something I shouldn't know about – which I did. Gosh, it was all getting confusing very quickly.

"Ah, April. Nice to meet you. What year is it?"

"Doesn't your Tardis tell you that, Doctor?"

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and his voice goes quiet. His expression is one that instantly makes you nervous, like when your hair is pricking up on the back of your neck and you don't know why, you just know that something bad is going to happen. "How do you know about the Tardis? And how do you know who Rose Tyler is?"

Sheepishly, I grin. "I know a lot about you, Doctor." Of course I know a lot about him. I've watched plenty of him on the television, which is apparently based on fact.

"Yet I know nothing of you…" he looks at me thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He starts to circle me, examining me. I stand perfectly still, only my eyes following him as he inspects me. He pulls out his sonic screwdriver, points it at me, and frowns. Then he goes back to look at me quizzically. At one point, he actually sniffs me. Sniffs me! Now why would he do that?

I can't restrain myself; I have to give some sort of quip. "Do I smell nice?"

"Shh." The answer is instantaneous. "I'm thinking." So now I know how Amy and Rory feel on the show. Apparently, Matt Smith's portrayal of the Doctor is pretty accurate, at least as far as personalities and the requirement of silence to think.

"And?" I ask, stretching out the word. I'm expecting him to shush me again, but he actually answers me.

"I'm thinking that it's not possible for you to know all of this… stuff… about me."

This actually makes me feel pretty confident. After all, I've only seen every show about the Doctor ever. "Oh yeah? Try me." The Doctor looks slightly surprised, his eyebrow raising inquisitively at me. He crosses his arms and leans back onto the Tardis, so I lean back against my house to mirror his stance. A bit of my blonde hair falls out of my ponytail in front of my emerald eyes, but I let it hang there. It seems comforting; having something to block his scrutinizing gaze.

"Race?" I assume he is referring to his own, because we both know I'm human now that he's sonic-d me.

"Time Lord."

"That one was easy. Planet?"

"Gallifrey."

"Age?"

"907, possibly 908 depending on when your birthday is."

"Companions?"

I list off every Companion I know about, starting with his granddaughter and ending with the girl called Amelia Ponds. My thrill becomes more pronounced with each name I list. I have a good majority of the companions memorized, at least enough to prove my vast knowledge of all things Doctor. I felt like I only missed two or three of his friends throughout his eleven forms.

The Doctor frowns at me, obviously still puzzled. Then he seems to think of something, I can tell by the way his face lights up. "Tell me what my name is." He seems positively delighted with his own question, a smile being plastered onto his face.

I frown at him; he knows he has me caught. Unless I missed that episode – and I'm pretty sure I didn't – I have no clue what his name is. No one has any clue, as far as I know, asides from the Doctor himself.

When I don't respond, the Doctor gives a short laugh. "Ha! You don't know everything about me, April, despite what you may think. But I'd still like to know how you know what you do."

I guess this means he doesn't know he has his own television series, then. Should I tell him? Or should I drag this on a bit longer? Seeing how it won't hurt him in the near future, I think I'll make myself seem all knowing for a little while. It never lasts long anyways, at least not for me.

"_That _is my secret, Doctor." I say it a little bit smugly. From what I know, the Doctor normally is the one with the secrets. Needless to say, the Doctor looks a bit put out. Nothing to ruin your day like an arrogant seventeen-year-old girl who knows secrets about you but you have never even met before, right?

We stare at each other in silence for a few minutes. The Doctor seems to be puzzling over something, while I was puzzling over what he was puzzling over. "Really, April! This is killing me."

"Won't you just," I make a weird gesture with my arms by waving them around, "Reform or whatever?" I am struck with a sudden idea. "What would you look like? Do you know what you look like in the future?"

He looks at me funny, but I'm too busy examining him to really pay attention. I look at his face, his height, his clothing, and his bowtie. I accidentally trip and bump into him as I make my assessment of him.

"Hmm. You'd be tall, I think. Do you think you'd have a beard?" The Doctor opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, already enjoying this conversation too much. "No, no, and I don't think you'd have a mustache either. You don't really seem the type for facial hair."

"April, I-"

I do my best to look like I am thinking hard, turning my head sideways in puzzlement. "I think your eyes would be blue. Could they be blue? Or do they always stay the same color."

"Really, I-'

"And your nose… I think your nose would change. Not so crooked."

"I'll have you know my nose is-"

"And your ears-" I begin, but he tells me to shush again. I can't help smiling at his expression, which is a mix of amusement and offense at me criticizing his looks.

"You know, for some reason I like you. You're a cheery one. Not like most the people I meet."

I could feel my grin becoming wider by the second. "So you're going to take me on your Tardis for wild adventures across space and time. And it's going to be really dangerous and we'll probably both die!" The words came tumbling out of my mouth in a rush, the excitement really getting through to me.

"See? I like your attitude!" The Doctor smiles, and goes to pull a key out of his pocket.

Apparently he can't find it, so he looks at me, remarking dryly, "You took my Tardis key when you bumped into me didn't you?"

"Yep!" I say cheerily, brushing past him to the door. He opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off yet again. "I know, I know. It's bigger on the inside. Another dimension and all that."

The key is in the lock and the door is opened before he can say anything in response. Looking around the inside of the Tardis, it's everything I've ever imagined. Flashing lights, staircases, see-through floor, and lots of buttons – enough to entertain me for a month.

"Well, April," he says once I've tossed him the Tardis key that I nicked from his pocket. "You apparently know the drill. Anywhere, anytime at your fingertips. Where would you like to start?"

* * *

**Yep. That was it. Now I'm kind of nervous. I hope I kind of made him sound like the Doctor. In case it's not clear in the story, this Doctor is the eleventh Doctor. Really, I think Matt Smith's a perfect Doctor. When I changed his appearance I didn't mean to imply he's a less-than-perfect doctor, I just felt like it wouldn't work with the story if Matt Smith showed up. I also wasn't sure if I wanted to describe April Ross, and let your imagination do the work, but I just had to give her a personality. I also wanted to make her American, because I find it funny that the Doctor would travel with an American. ACCENTS COLLIDE. Wow. Now I'm rambling. See? I'm nervous. So you guys should review and help me be not nervous. Hehe. :)**

**If you guys have ANY tips, I need them. Really. Trash my writing if you want, though I'd prefer it if you don't. Whatever. I need the criticism. :)**

**Review please! :) You know you want to!**


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